Frozen Hearts
by Kipsels
Summary: Things never worked out for her, and now Chelsea was gone, and she was never coming back. The people of the island moved on. But now, more than two years later, a mysterious woman threatens to develop the beautiful island and destroy it.
1. Prologue

**Two and a half years ago…**

The pier was swathed in darkness that night. The moon did not appear to greet the night life of the island, and the few short hours that it did make a crescent shaped appearance, the light did not reach the ocean. A lone figure stood at the dock, waiting patiently for the early morning boat to arrive. They found little peace of mind knowing that the boat would be empty that morning, and their escape would not be barraged by pleading neighbours. Nothing could change the past. All that was left to do was…to make the future as comfortable for everyone as possible.

Chelsea watched the horizon, void of any emotion. She had spent far too long crying, and now she was just an empty shell of what used to be. It was still hours away before the first rays of sunlight would hit the horizon, and Chelsea was glad for that. There would be no chance for someone to wake and find her missing, to plead for her to stay. Nothing they could say would change her mind now. Seeing their faces would only make it hurt.

She thought back to the two notes that she had left on the door of her ranch, and the duplicate that was pinned to the front door of Taro's. The details of what to do in her absence were listed on them. She had felt pain as she wrote those two notes, but they were a necessity if she wished her animals not to suffer any longer than they had to. Without them, Chelsea feared they would not notice her absence before weeks end, at which time her animals would be hungry and unkempt.

A black speck could be seen along the ocean, accelerating towards the tiny dock by the beach. She grabbed onto the suitcase beside her, carrying what little belongings she could take. Just then, she felt two emotions rush through her body. Regret, and loneliness.

Chelsea was alone in the world. For one second in her life, she thought she had it all. A family who loved her, friends who cared about her. But she had been wrong about that too. The comfortable life she had built on the little island had come crashing down, and she didn't have the strength to rebuild it. Moving on was the best solution she could see.

"You getting on, Miss?"

Chelsea looked up at the sailor, his face tired from a long night's journey. She took the chance to look back at the beach she had grown to love, and the cobblestone pathway that lead into town. Oh, she would miss this place so much…

"Well, are you?"

"…Yes."

She did not look back on the island as the boat began to leave. She did not dwell on the feelings of guilt and great sadness that filled her. She opened the door to the waiting room and sat in silence, the emptiness of the room echoing the sensation she felt inside.

"Everyone…I'm sorry…"

'_I cannot change what I have done. I cannot change what has happened to me, or anyone else in this beautiful island. But I can take the opportunity to make amends for it all. I'm sorry. Please, do not try to contact me. It will only make it hurt more than it already does. _

_I have to move on… I have done my job, the island has returned to the amazing state it was once in, and I trust you all to maintain that. I will miss the open, friendly community that has flourished, but I cannot see another way out._

_Taro, I would like for you to give all that I own to Mark. I know he'll do wonder's at the ranch, and I cannot bear to think of the neglect my animals might see if I did not let him receive such a prosperous piece of land. I have had many great memories of the place, but I hold just as many bad ones. _

_Mark, thank you for being there through it all. I'm proud of you, and I know you can do it! Don't be sad, think of it as a bonus for being my friend. You'll finally have what you've always wanted, and I know that you'll be a better farmer than I ever was. Remember to take good care of Mabo, I love that dog more than anything in the world, and I know he'll miss me._

_For everyone else, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. You've all been such great people. Many of you may not understand the reasons behind my decision, but some of you will, and I wish you do not let my rash decisions get in the way of the good memories you have of me. Some things are just not meant to be, and I was kidding myself when I accepted the challenge of working the farm._

_I'm sorry, please don't be mad…_

_Chelsea.'_

**The Present…**

She was a strange one, she was. A hard worker, with an even harder heart. Nobody knew much about her, she conversed as little as possible. The boss seemed to love her though, and people often wondered what he saw in the hollow woman. He was a powerful man in his late thirties, with a lineage so close to royal blood he could have started a whole new monarchy. And she, as they assumed, was a woman in her mid twenties with a family history that was burnt in a fire.

She was not tall, though her true height was obscured by the magnificent boots she wore regularly. Her figure was hidden inside a black trench coat which no one had ever seen her remove, excluding the few visits she took to the boss's office. Her hair was platinum blonde, and was always tied up out of her eyes, revealing an unnatural widow's peak. They rarely saw her eyes, but when she did happen to remove the sunglasses, people said that they were the most magnificent blue that anyone had ever seen.

She was a shadow of what once was a beautiful young woman. Too many late nights working, and a suspicious past had ruined her. Her expression never did change from one of utter disgust, unless she was in the presence of the boss. But even then she would show signs of a scowl when he was not looking.

No one even knew her name. It was lost in the records, and some even said that she had forgotten it herself, long ago. Now, she went by the code name Concorde, a symbol of man's greatest feat, as well as man's greatest failure. She had an obsession with the plane, and people said that she used the boss's standing in society to visit the hanger where the magnificent creation still sat, waiting. She liked cats, rumours were she kept multiple in her apartment on the outskirts of Paris. She was American, as far as they all knew. Her natural twang on the French language was something most people needed to become accustomed to before they could fully understand it.

The builder's gossiped about her endlessly, and when she made an appearance at the sight of the construction, she would hiss at them intentionally and utter out a sharp comment on how impossibly stupid builders were, and that she would have them fired and destroy their families if she did not see any progress in the next twenty-four hours.

New workers were scared by her, and veterans simply did what they were told. There was no reason to go back on the instructions given out by the boss's personal architect, and fiancé. Today was no different, her venomous words scarred the minds of the workers, just as they did every day. However, she seemed to be on edge herself, constantly aware that her powerful partner was only a few meters away at any moment in time.

"Dear, I wish to speak with you." He muttered softly as she walked up to him. She kissed him on the cheek, though it lacked any emotion.

"Yes, what is it?" She asked, sticking to the simplest words in the French dictionary to form her sentences.

"I have plans to spread my empire overseas. I want to take it to America." Concorde frowned, understanding where he was getting at. He was trying to squeeze her of what she knew of the powerful country, considering her origins.

"And you want me to help you?" Her serious expression seemed to go stone cold. The boss took her hands in his and smiled, trying to comfort the woman in some way. The older man was so compassionate for a woman who hardly reciprocated his feelings. It was no wonder people said she was a gold digger, and he was just a man besotted by her hidden beauty.

"I want you to go to a place called the Sunshine Islands. I've heard good things about it, and I want you to check it out for me. I trust you more than anyone else in the world." Her frown only seemed to grow, and she shook her head in defiance.

"I do not wish to leave you. Can you not send another of your senior workers?" She asked, pulling out another possible option.

"Do not be so worried, love. It will only be for a few seasons. There is nothing for you to fear." It seemed that he was set in his ideas, Concorde was stuck, and there was nothing she could do to change the mind of her lover.

"Fine. When am I leaving for this, Sunshine Islands…?"

"Tomorrow night, love."

She smirked and shook her head at the man before her. "Well then, you must make good work of my company tonight. You may miss me."

**A/N: Hmm, that's it. Prologue finished. What did you think then? Do you want me to continue? Note, this story will come out slower than my other one, as my other Chelsea x Vaughn fic is my main priority until it is finished.**

**Review it, tell me your thoughts and whether it should be continued, as well what you'd like to see in the future. I might make this a reader-opinion based story, using your input to make it a better story. **


	2. The Ultimatum

Concorde despised travelling by air, and even more so by boat. It was like a punch to the stomach when she found out she would need to travel by both to get to her destination. A plane trip that would take more than seven hours was not something Concorde wanted to partake in, and it made her wish that the supersonic series of planes she had named herself after was still in the air.

It only made it worse when she rediscovered the necessity for identification when travelling overseas, meaning that she'd need to get herself a passport. It was highly unlikely that they would have believed that her name was truly Concorde, as much as she might have liked. Boss had told her that he had the contacts to have false details made for the purpose of proving identification. It was then that she received the alias of Cecil Anne Jacobs. It did not suit her. However, the Boss seemed to like it, so it stuck for the moment. At least until she got off the boat and stepped foot onto the wretched little island.

The in-flight entertainment only served as a distraction of flashing lights for her. The man who sat next to her, balding and red faced, seemed to be on an agenda to watch every possible movie available before the plane hit the ground. Concorde either spent her time reading the dullest book ever written or drinking a glass of hard scotch. She did not like music, nor did she like playing games. In fact, her apartment in Paris did not have a television in it.

She kept to herself and read the business section of the newspaper every morning, before going to work and passing out venomous commands to her employees. When it was all done, she would go home with the Boss and 'enjoy' each other's company as young lovers should. Only, no one could see how he could be comfortable even kissing the lethal woman, let alone go any further than that.

He did though, and he planned on marrying her come year's end. Concorde felt indifferent to the matter. She knew in her mind that she would never find so called 'true love', but if the man was so devoted to her as he seemed to be, then wasn't it the best option? She'd have a nice life with him, he was well off, and all he needed was an heir to the business. She showed distaste when the topic of children came up, but it was a necessity of life. It seemed she failed to be born with any maternal instinct, or she lost it, long ago.

The boat trip was no different. Nature did not appeal to her presence, and sent forth a dreary day. The sky was gray, and it rained on and off. She spent most of her time in her room, attempting to sleep. It was a stupid thing to do, because Concorde had not slept a good night's sleep in years. It was just a part of her life. The boat rocked as the water swelled around it, and she felt dizzy from the creaky movements of the room. It had been quite a while since she last travelled by boat, and she hadn't remembered what it was like until that moment in time.

The phone in her pocket began to ring. She slapped her hand down against her thigh and wiggled her fingers in to fetch it. Her thumb moved across the buttons, pressed the green phone and then placed the phone by her ear.

"What?" Irritated by the disturbance, her eyes were closed tight to block out the rocky movement of the boat.

"Hello my dear. How was your trip?" The voice of the Boss cooed softly over the phone. She sighed.

"Terrible. I do not like travelling. This boat is old and rickety and I'm threatening to throw up as we speak."

He chuckled sympathetically and told her that he was sorry, and that if he could be there right now he'd comfort her as much as possible, if only to make the trip that little bit more bearable. She told him that she would have liked that very much, though the tone of her voice said otherwise.

He told her what she would need to do straight away when she arrived, and she whined softly in dismay. He mentioned that after that, she would be a free woman and she would be able to take a nice warm bath.

As much as she loved his compliments, they got tiring after a while. Perhaps, if she had been truly in love with him, it wouldn't have been a problem. But she wasn't, and they made her sick. When they said goodbye Concorde turned on her side and looked out the window. She hadn't even noticed the boat dock up.

She grabbed her bags and got off as quickly as possible, though dry line brought no comfort. Her whole head swayed, and she still felt like she was treading water.

Maybe she would take that bath after all.

**~X~**

In recent years, Vaughn's life had been a set routine that was rarely broken. He spent most of his time in the city, working, and travelled to the islands for two short days before starting the motions all over again. He showed no specific interest in engaging people in conversation, and apart from the boat rides transporting animals too and from places, he found no immediate need to communicate. But like any other person, for every cold exterior there was a reason behind it. Vaughn was no exception to that rule.

His moods did not vary often, though it was a rarity that someone might catch a hint of a happy emotion on his face. No one quite understood the permanent thorns that stuck to his side, making him so. If there was anyone with an inkling into what his painful childhood contained, it would have been his cousin Julia. But when asked about it, she would simply reply with a sentence along the lines of 'if he wanted you to know, he'd tell you'. Those who had been permanent inhabitants to Sunshine Islands understood that something had affected him more than anyone else in recent history. Just shy of its 3rd anniversary, no one expected Vaughn to leave the comfort of his room when it came around the corner.

Julia had grown tired of Vaughn's self-inflicted segregation, and it was only a month ago that she had shoved her cousin into the welcoming arms of a girl named Sabrina. She was the precious daughter of a rich CEO who made his money through the minerals found in the mines. It came as no surprise that Julia had chosen her out of all the available women on the island to push Vaughn towards. In some aspects, they were one and the same person. But in others, the ones Vaughn took the most time to consider, they were so different he doubted they'd ever bond enough to have something called 'friendship'.

But Sabrina was patient. She didn't care if they spent five minutes or three hours together, and she certainly didn't mind if no one said a word. She understood to some degree what Vaughn was feeling, though she would never quite get the depth of it all. She had been there when the incident had occurred, and though she was not affected directly by it, she had seen what hurt it had caused the community. So perhaps it was her compassion that made Vaughn feel a little more comfortable in her company. He certainly never saw himself in a romantic relationship with the girl, but he could bear a few hours standing by her in silence.

Julia called it progress. Sabrina called it patience. Vaughn called it a lost cause. Even so, this little routine became a part of Vaughn's weekly visit to the islands, and it made it a little more bearable for him when he was faced with the memories of it all.

Today would be no different. He would finish his work and leave his cousin's shop to meet with Sabrina. They would walk together along the cobblestone pathways and utter few words to each other, until the sun began to set and they parted ways.

Except that was not how it worked out, in the end.

Vaughn was listening to Sabrina talk quietly about her father's business when the sound of a heated argument shattered the calm. He stopped abruptly and turned in the direction of calamity, curiosity getting the better of him. Sabrina did not approve.

"Vaughn, don't…" She whispered, the look on her face showing how conflicted she was. It was evident she wished to take hold of his hand and pull him back. She just didn't have the self esteem to do so.

He looked back at her and frowned at her expression of fear and confusion. That was one thing he didn't like. She didn't put up a fight.

There was another loud crash, and the sound of wood splintering. Whatever was going on, it was getting violent. People were looking out windows; others were stopping out on the streets just as he had. Vaughn pushed his Stetson further down his head and made his way in the direction of the noise. It wasn't hard to spot.

A blonde woman stood with her arms folded across her chest, stoic. She hadn't made a single move, and by the look of the crumpled pile of wood beside her, she had just dodged an oncoming chair. On the other side of the argument was a distressed old man. Vaughn immediately recognised him to be the owner of the inn. In comparison to the woman, who seemed unnaturally disengaged by the ruckus, he was pulling at the hairs of his white beard and throwing a tantrum. Whatever he had just been told, it wasn't to his liking.

Suddenly, the woman pulled a piece of paper out from under her arm and held it out to the man. This only seemed to spur him on further. He was just about ready to run back inside and grab another item to chuck at the women.

"Please sir, I do not wish to see you throw any further projectiles. " She said, her voice was very business like, just like the way she held herself.

Vaughn walked up to the two of them, ignoring the woman and placing a strong hand on the inn keeper's shoulder, trying to settle the man down. Not only did Vaughn not want to see another chair being thrown half way across the road, it would be bad for the old man's health.

"Calm down! What's going on?" He asked, not even considering whether his voice was too harsh.

The older man raised a wrinkled finger and pointed at the woman, his hand shaking in fury. The lines on his forehead and around his eyes deepened as he glared at the woman, who still remained indifferent to the whole matter. In fact, she was busy inspecting her nails.

"She's comin' round here 'n sayin' they're buyin' me out!" He roared, nostrils flaring. Vaughn said nothing and looked over at the woman. She was covered up in a black trench coat, her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Vaughn failed to understand half of what the old man was blathering about, but he gathered enough to know this woman was there to take his little inn down and replace it with something a whole lot bigger.

She rolled her eyes behind her glasses and turned her body, ready to take her leave. "Hmph. It's been a pleasure listening to you throw insults at me, but now I must take my leave. You have a year's notice, which gives you plenty of time to come up with plans for the future. Good day." The woman removed her glasses from their position on her nose and smirked at the two of them, her bright blue eyes burning with intensity. The woman was sinister.

Sabrina teetered on the edge of the path, nervously glancing at the woman and then at Vaughn. She didn't know whether to make a move or not. It only made it worse when she looked between the two, both sharing an equally terrifying glare at each other. Nothing was said for a very long time, and to Sabrina, it felt like time had paused entirely. Suddenly, the woman left, the heels of her boots clicking menacingly against the cobblestones. Sabrina dashed for it.

"V-Vaughn..! Who was that?" She squeaked, her lilac eyes dancing between him and the distressed old man.

She received a shrug in response. Vaughn was still staring at the spot where the woman had been standing, deep in thought. In his head, he was going over the woman's words. It wasn't so much what she had said, but her voice that had caught him off guard. He was so certain that voice was…

No, she was gone. She was gone and she was never coming back. She had left everyone in guilt, and she was never going to return no matter how hard people tried. And boy, had he tried. He tried everything to get in contact with her, but it always came to a dead end. One day, he just gave up. He replaced all emotions for her with a black hole, constantly reminding him of one thing: She had left him, because he never deserved her to begin with.

"What's wrong Vaughn? Vaughn?" Sabrina's voice echoed in his head and he looked down at the innocent girl. He shook his head, breaking away from his thoughts. He took her tiny hand in his to reassure her, though it only made her cheeks flare crimson.

"It's nothing. Let's go home." He muttered distantly, pulling her along behind him, barely acknowledging the dreamy look she had on her face.

He was concerned for the old man, but it wasn't his problem. Vaughn was only on the island two days a week, even if he did want to help he didn't have the time to spare protesting. And he thought of it in a positive light. Perhaps, in a couple years the entire island would be developed and there would no longer be a need for him to deliver animals to the rural island. At least he'd be spared the pain of it all.

They stood outside Sabrina's mansion, and Vaughn dropped her hand. "Well, goodnight."

Sabrina shifted her weight from one foot to the other, staring up at Vaughn intently. Vaughn was watching her too, but there was a distance in his eyes that couldn't be removed. It was like a flash of lightning. Sabrina whipped up and pecked him on the cheek before ushering out a quick farewell and dashing inside. Vaughn stood there, wondering if it had actually happened at all, or if his tormented mind was playing tricks on him.

Whatever, he'd be gone again by tomorrow night.

**~X~**

Concorde made herself comfortable on the hotel bed. Her long blonde hair was out of its constraints, and ran wild over her shoulders and face. She moaned softly in pain. Her right leg throbbed where it had been whipped by the leg of the wooden chair she had had chucked at her.

"Stupid idiot." She muttered spitefully as she sat up and pulled off her boots to inspect the damage. The skin was torn just below the knee, where the sharp corner of the chair had impacted. There was no blood, but it was painfully sore. She touched it tenderly and winced in pain, the area had begun to swell, and she knew very well that in the morning she'd have a nice blue bruise to stare at.

Her whole body collapsed back onto the bed, and she exhaled deeply. She didn't expect to be assaulted by the man, it wasn't her fault that the company wanted his plot of land. Concorde conceded that she was just doing her job, and she couldn't do anything about it. But the old man would have nothing of the sort, and began to scream and yell and throw things. He had calmed long enough to receive the request on paper, outlining the terms and conditions of the agreement. But it wasn't an agreement, no, it was just an ultimatum.

And then came the cowboy. The tall man swathed in leathers and denim. Coming up like a man to the rescue, only it was by accident he had saved her from another wave of insults and injuries.

He had always been like that though. Right from the very beginning. Without even knowing it, Concorde's tired face was blessed with the presence of a smile. It had surprised her, seeing him again. She would have thought that he would have moved on and found other business by now. But he hadn't, and she recovered from the shock quickly and made herself busy. Maybe he had finally moved to the island to live. Maybe he had settled down. Heck, for all she knew he might have a couple kids of his own by now. A lot of things can happen in two and a half years, Concorde knew this more than anyone else.

"It's nice to see you too, Vaughn."

**A/N: And that's a wrap! Did you enjoy it? I hope you did. Make sure to review and tell me what you think, and maybe even what you'd like to see in the future. I'd love to hear your input! **


	3. Mark's Queen

In two years, Mark's farm had blossomed. Though, he could have easily given credit to a beautiful young girl who gave him a head start on it all. Without her guidance and quick-witted personality, he wouldn't have been where he was right now. But even with the training he had received, the farm was already in tiptop shape from the kind nursing of its previous owner. It took time for animals to become fond of him, and the land had not been too accepting of a new farmer at first, but as time went on everything seemed to forget the young girl who once ruled the plot.

Mark would never forget though.

The day had started like any other. He woke up, got dressed and started to make breakfast while he brushed his teeth. He was odd in the way that he enjoyed the minty aftertaste of toothpaste on nearly every food item he tried, and that was why he always brushed his teeth before he ate. He washed his face in the morning and showered late at night because in the early hours of the morning there was really no time to spare. Even so, it would have been a waste after working up a sweat before it even hit noontime.

But before he did any of this he took the time to pick up the brown wooden picture frame that sat beside his bed and soak up the image that was placed inside it. With one immediate glance you could tell that the young man was Mark: his blonde hair unkempt and held down by his blue cap. His bright green eyes seemed to glow with happiness, matched by the grin on his face. The girl beside him was equally messy. Her brown hair flew away in the strong wind of the moment, and her red bandanna seemed to be on the brink of flying off with it. Her eyes were like large sapphires, and she was laughing in the picture. Arm in arm, it was easy to tell the two were close.

"When are you coming back Chelsea? I need you…" He whispered to the picture, stroking his calloused thumb across the glass that protected it.

Mark constantly smiled. He was easily the happiest person on the island. He was not afraid to spend hours of the day talking to people he hardly knew, and many appreciated him for his colourful personality and overall calm demeanour. People who came to the island for a holiday or business would receive a one person welcome party on their first day, and while some people may have been put off by it, others believed that Mark's attitude reflected the entire island's.

There was, however, one person who never earned such a greeting. In fact, Mark hadn't even bothered to give the girl a look. People had been quick to spread the news about what the island's future held, and it infuriated Mark. He would not see the island's natural character be destroyed by a modern-world woman with no appreciation for nature.

It was why Mark spent more time than ever in the church, praying to the harvest goddess to help him out of the rut he found himself in. It was why, in secret, Mark had started up the dead ended search to find his best friend once again. When everything had happened two and a half years ago, Chelsea's abrupt departure had left the islanders even more distraught than they had been to begin with. Though the reasons behind her leaving were something many people understood it was still something that needed time rather than absence to heal.

He remembered the incident clearly. He remembered, in spite of everything, how some people were not hesitant to blame everything on Chelsea. It was all a part of the mourning process. Those who were affected needed someone to bring it out on. That person happened to be the one that was there at the time. That person was Chelsea.

Chelsea took it all to heart. Mark watched the colour and life drain from her day after day, until one day she just wasn't there anymore. It was her disappearance that made people realise how wrong they were to put all of their own pain onto someone who was suffering just as much from the ordeal. A wave of guilt swept the island, claiming the lives of people for the next few months until they knew that no matter how hard they tried, Chelsea was never coming back.

The island went back to as it was, in a sense. There was a void that could not be filled, and Mark was given the job of stopping it up to prevent the leaks as best he could. Over time, it seemed like everyone had accepted fate. That is, except for Mark. He still wanted his best friend back as much as the day she left.

When he had finished his work for the morning, his livestock were out to pasture and his chicken were clucking happily in the field, Mark did not take his time when taking his daily trip to church. He sat down on a bench and listened to Nathan's sermon on how prosperous the land was, and to pray for its long life. His hands were clasped together, and Mark silently prayed. Apart from a few regular churchgoers, Mark was alone in the room.

When the sermon had finished, Mark did not move. He needed a little extra time to take in the tranquillity and air of hope that filled the church. The wooden bench creaked, and Mark slowly looked to the side- green eyes empty of their usual joy. Alisa, the young nun who was entirely devout to the Harvest Goddess, was smiling at him shyly.

"How are you feeling, Mark?" She asked, leaning in. Her face was soft, ready to speak with him. She was one of the few people that Mark confided in. Alisa understood all of his worries, and gave him strength to fight each day.

"Today's not great. A lot of things have been happening, especially with the new lady that's been around. I guess it's just making me hurt more than I have in a while. I really miss her." He said.

Alisa reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "I think everyone is feeling a little off lately. I haven't met this woman yet, but I've heard the news she brings with her."

Over the next half hour, Mark spilled his heart out to Alisa. She listened intently, nodding and giving him words of kindness when she saw the need. She felt a little off preaching of the future, when she was not nearly as trained at Nathan in giving advice and the general consolation of people. Mark didn't seem to mind though, all he really wanted was a friendly face and someone to talk to.

He glanced down at his watch and sighed. "I better go now. Thank you, for everything."

"If you ever need anything, the Church is always open." Alisa smiled and bowed to him.

Refraining from the urge to hug her, Mark busied himself by refitting his hat to his head and practicing a happy face for the outside world. "Well, I'm off. Bye."

**~X~**

In the span of a few days, she had managed to spin a cocoon of hatred around herself. It did not surprise her to be inflicted by a poor nature, she had brought some devastating news with her. If she hadn't been forced to limp around town, she might have been more forgiving to their erratic nature. Unfortunately, her injury had put her in a fowl mood, and she was not afraid to lash out. It was for that very reason people had kept their distance.

Concorde ignored the stares as she drank her morning coffee at the café. Any normal person would have felt eyes bore into the back of their head and be unnerved by it. She seemed content in watching the milk fats float to the surface, until she stuck a spoon in and spun them around again. Fresh dairy milk from the local farm, the lady had said to her cautiously when the cup had been handed over.

Having people afraid of her was something she was accustomed to. It was fear mixed with hate that she did not like. It forced people to act irrationally, and Concorde was never one to act irrationally, nor make allowances for those who did.

She found some amusement in the looks of curiosity she got from some members of the community. Their faces were cold reminders of what used to be, but the ghost of memories past through their faces as they laid their eyes on her. In their heads, they were making the connections with her own similarities to the memories of a pretty young rancher girl. She did not feel disappointed or saddened when the idea was automatically written off.

She never expected to be back either, so why would they?

A new identity, a new look, a new personality. All of them were not for the improvement of the beautiful character she once was. But it wasn't her fault. They were necessary edits that had been done to keep her from hurting. And besides, the islanders had sent her away all those years ago. And even in the recent history, Concorde's mind had not changed on the fact that she left for the better of the island.

There was, however, a part of her that ached to revisit the past and evoke old emotions. The good ones, at least. She was constantly pacing along the street, as it appeared to onlookers. Though, in her head she was making up her mind to visit the old farm, and then she simply decided against the idea in a matter of seconds. The process was repeated for hours at a time, and it came to no surprise that people thought she was borderline insane as well as the harbinger of bad news.

Lost in thought, Concorde hadn't even noticed that she had finished her coffee.

"Huh…"

The sound of bells rang, signalling to everyone that the door had been opened and someone had blessed the company with their presence. Concorde rose her empty cup to her lips and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible when she took the time to glance at the door. Her clear blue eyes widened, for a split second. In her head, her hand wiped across her face and moulded it back into its poker face, emotions were expendable.

Emeralds met Sapphires, and with the clash the entire world seemed to freeze. As composed as she tried to be Concorde's heart started to thump in her chest and blood started to rush at a pace it had not seen in years. Mark hadn't changed a bit.

Concorde watched him shake he head, dismissing the idea that everyone had already dismissed. There was no way on earth that this woman was Chelsea. Concorde agreed with that.

Chelsea was locked up in the darkest, dankest cell imaginable. Chelsea was stuck on a desolate island, with no chance of ever seeing a rescue. Chelsea was caught running in a maze which she would never find the exit to.

Chelsea was well and truly gone.

Mark's plan to buy something was postponed. With a strange amount of fluidity he slid into the seat opposite Concorde, scrutinising every little part of her. She made no attempt to speak and continued to sip from an empty cup. He noticed the absence of liquid and raised a brow. Concorde copied him.

"Who are you?" His voice was curious. It did not match the curiosity that Concorde pinned to his face though. It was cold, suspicious. And to make matters worse, Concorde smirked at him and matched his cold words with an even colder expression.

"Concorde."

He reeled back, glaring at her. "Concorde? What are you on about? I want your name, not a bloody aeroplane."

She giggled softly and set her cup back on the table. Her hand moved along the smooth porcelain handle of the cup, pinching the bridge and twisting the entire body with it. She quickly spun it round in the opposite direction, entertained by the clumsy little show the cup put on. It came to a quick stop as it lost its balance and clattered onto its side. People did not hesitate to stare.

"My name is Concorde. That is all you need to know."

Mark continued to glare at her, unhappy with the answer. "No, it's not all I need to know. I need to know why you're here. What do you want with this island, why can't you just leave us all alone and let us live our lives?"

"I'm sorry for your losses, whatever they may be." She said, softly. "I don't make up the rules though. My boss wants this island for his business. And he always gets what he wants and there is no exception to this rule… If you plan on starting up again, I suggest you file your complaints to someone who genuinely cares."

Her harsh words hit Mark like a speeding train. He simply stared at her, shocked into silence. Concorde did not know what had happened to change the once happy man into this emotion ridden one before her. He was not happy, like she would have expected him to be. It hurt to see him like that, a little. Not a lot, she didn't consider him as her best friend any more. After all, Concorde and Chelsea were too completely different people.

The music in the little café changed from its long list of Michael Bublé tracks into something that Concorde much more enjoyed. A life long Queen fan was woken up from its deep sleep as the song 'Don't Stop Me Now' started to play. Concorde had forgotten that Mark was sitting opposite of her. In fact, she had temporarily forgotten who she was. The heel of her boot tapped against the tiles of the floor and her nails drummed against the cloth of the table. She was humming softly to the tune, fighting back the urge to stand up and break into song.

Mark was watching on silently. His anger dissipated by the absurdity of the girl's nature. One minute she was the epitome of bad business, and now she was tapping away to a tune that was far too upbeat to meet her need for structure. She was just…weird.

When the guitar solo began ringing through the room, Concorde's sapphire eyes rose from the table and locked onto Mark. She nodded her head softly and shrugged to his expression. "What, I'm a Queen fan."

With that, she left him no room to respond. Concorde stood up, placed her sunglasses back on and tightened the trench coat around her waist. She called across the room to the old lady that ran the place, complimenting her on her excellent coffee making skills, and walked out of the building.

"Sorry to cut the wonderful conversation short, but I have an important conference to attend to. Ta-ta!"

The door closed, and her shrill laughter could be heard through the walls. Mark stared at the wall, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, deep in thought. A Queen fan, huh… That was so strange…

_Chelsea jumped her way across the room, having just come from the kitchen with a bottle of Coke and a bowl of popcorn in the crook of her arm. Her movements sent half the contents spilling across the room, which only made Mark laugh. Chelsea was always such a bubbly person, a little mess was not going to stop her. In fact, her whole house was a mess! _

"_It's movie time! I can't wait, what did you bring Mark?" She asked, plopping onto the seat beside him, making herself comfortable on the tattered, sunken old couch. Mark leaned down and grabbed the plastic bag beside his feet, shuffling through the contents._

"_Um… I've got…Iron Man, I Am Legend, Pirates of the Carribean-"_

"_Which one?"_

"_Number one… Oh, and I've got the old Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Anything tickle your fancy?"_

_Chelsea's nose wrinkled as she considered each of the options she was given. Mark smirked, admiring how childlike she appeared when she was concentrating. It was hard to believe this girl worked harder in a day than most people did in a week. Labour had not made a single dent on her personality. That was one of the reasons he loved her._

"_Willy Wonka. I like chocolate." She muttered, grabbing a fistful of popcorn before thrusting the bowl into Mark's lap in exchange for the DVD. She flicked the TV on with a pinkie finger and was up to get to the other side of the room. However, she was halted in her expedition when the sound of her favourite song played. _

"_Oh my Goddess! I love Queen!" She screeched, jumping up and down while simultaneously stuffing popcorn into her mouth. Mark could hear her saying something afterwards, but it was muffled and sounded like a bunch of gibberish to him. _

_It did not stop her from dropping the DVD case on the floor and catching Mark's arms, bringing him up to dance with her. He laughed at her erratic movement, and was not hesitant to join in with the random spasms they later called dancing._

"_I wish Vaughn would dance with me! He's such a lame-ass sometimes!" She piped up as she grabbed hold of his hands and swung around with him._

_It was at least an hour before they finally got to watching the movie._

Mark's eyes widened in realisation. The woman looked so similar to her too… But he wasn't going to accept the fact any time soon. Not without solid proof.

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while. Like I said, my other story is priority, and while I had a busy past two weeks I didn't have time to write two stories. As well, this story takes in a lot of consideration, I needed extra time to really think up the plot line and where I plan on taking this. And I apologise for any spelling errors or things that sound like mindless babble, because I have a feeling that this chapter contains a whole lot of that.**

**A glimpse of the past just might hold the secrets to the events leading up to 'the incident' mua-ha-ha-ha!**

**Anyway, review; tell me what you think, because I know you love to. **


	4. Stormy Weather

_As of late, their relationship had been a huge strain on the both of them, emotionally and physically. It wasn't that they didn't love each other, because they both agreed wholeheartedly on that subject. The problem was that their love did not solve the discrepancies they faced on a daily basis. On some matters, they never saw eye to eye on them, and due to their equally stubborn nature they refused to look at the issue from another angle. It was a shame that these problems were starting to become more than just a small issue- arguments over pointless matters had become much more frequent, and people in town were starting to worry._

_Chelsea ripped the door open, ignoring the sound of the rusty hinges creak under strain. The weather outside was terrible, and it seemed to match the foul mood that hung in the air. The trees that lined the boarder of her farming plot swayed in the forceful wind, and it had just started to rain._

"_I don't want to have this conversation again! Not now!" She cried out behind her, ready to slam the door to her ranch on the way out._

_She found two problems though. One, the door would not budge from it's position no matter how hard she pulled on it, and two, a hand had come to her shoulder with a powerful grasp. It forced her to turn around look into the indigo eyes of her captor._

"_I don't want you seeing that prince. You know he wants more from you than just a friendship, why can't you see that?" Vaughn hissed, his expression dark._

"_No, no, no!" Chelsea whined, tired of trying to force her views on him. "Will is my friend… What do you think I'm doing every time I visit him, huh? Do you think I'm having late night rendezvous with the prince? Do you really believe that I'm _cheating _on you? Don't you…trust me?"_

_Vaughn closed his eyes and his grip slackened. "Of course I trust you Chelsea. I just don't trust him. I can see it in his eyes, he wants so much more…" Simultaneously, the pair sighed. Exhausted from yet another fight, neither of them had enough energy in them to continue shoving their opinion down the other's throat._

_Chelsea sobbed, dry, and Vaughn did not hesitate to gather her up in his arms. He kissed the top of her head as she buried her face in his suede vest. Her little hands clutched onto the material behind his back, evidently upset with what they had come to._

"_I would…never cheat on you…" She whispered, her voice muffled by the material. _

"_I know. I trust you…" He whispered back._

_The door slammed shut, enclosing the two inside and protecting them from the storm that was brewing. It seemed like their relationship went up and down with the weather. Silently, Chelsea prayed for a sunny day tomorrow. _

**~X~**

Sitting on the beach, Concorde had been given plenty of time to contemplate. Though, in a week's time Concorde was still very set in her ideas, she couldn't help but start to miss the wondrous personalities of the islanders. It would have been different, if she hadn't been impersonating someone who was definitely not who she was. Not that she would change that, but she silently wished for a friendly smile on her morning walk.

Not every part of her had changed in two and a half years. Her exterior and outward personality had been the most dramatic conversions to take place. It's a much more difficult business to change the person who was inside, especially when you were having difficulties keeping that very same person restrained. She would admit, to herself, that it had been easier to play the role of another when she wasn't on the islands. Being here brought with it memories- though it was the bad ones she pondered on the most.

And when she thought of the mistreatment she had been subjected to, she would sour and what once was Chelsea would dig itself back into the hole it came from.

The gentle spray of the ocean water had accumulated, snowy white salt crystals setting along the bridge of her hairline. With the water came the wind, and despite the year telling her that it was meant to be Summer, it was obvious that the sun had decided not to come around this year. It was cold and cloudy, just like it had been every day since Concorde set foot on it. She was a bad omen, and the island knew it. She stifled herself from shivering again from exposure to the elements.

"Are you alright there, fair maiden?" A soft, precious voice came from a distance. Concorde ignored it.

They asked again, and Concorde dug her head into her knees, silently telling the person to bug off like the rest of them. It was a shame that the man happened to be so persistent. His voice became louder as he walked up to her, until she finally heard the soft thud of the man coming to sit beside her.

Concorde turned her head to the side and met a pair of crystalline blue eyes, sparkling with curiosity. His blonde hair flipped away from him in a duck sweep: an odd but attractive style for the young man to apply. Concorde remembered him. How could she not? He was the beginning of the end for Chelsea.

"I have no interest in talking to you." She stated coolly before tucking her head away from the cold ocean air once more.

A slender hand came to rest on her shoulder, causing her to flinch in surprise. Splayed out in the sand, Concorde's eyes became wide in shock. They were matched by the look on the prince's face. To Concorde it was not an overreaction. It was a display of how disturbingly out of line he had been in coming that close to her.

"I-I didn't mean to startle you!" He consoled, backing away slightly. Her own stance relaxed in the process. "You just seemed to be so sad, I thought you might have liked to have some company. I apologise."

Concorde sighed and shook her head. "No, no… I'm fine… Why are you talking to me?"

He stared at her, wide eyed once more. He didn't seem to understand what she meant by the question, because in a matter of seconds he asked, "Am I not meant to speak to you?"

"You can speak to me all you like. It's just a general consensus of the islanders to avoid me as much as possible. I prefer it that way." Concorde said.

He smiled at her, and his blonde hair tussled with the wind. The trees howled like wild dogs as the air passed through their bowed branches. As if on cue, the dark clouds above them started to rumble. It was an orchestra of bad weather. Finally, he said something, while getting to his feet.

"Would you like to join me on my boat? The weather is atrocious. And a beautiful lady does not need to be subjected to such." He pointed to the big mass that sulked in the shallows of the dock, gently swaying with the angry sea.

Concorde sighed and nodded. "Fine."

He held out a hand to her, and she took it to bring herself up off the ground. Together, they walked at a brisk pace towards the boat. Like a gentleman, he held the door open for her before closing it behind himself.

It was dark inside, the window's of the cabin were crowded by the gray clouds that gathered overhead. He probably expected the sun to greet the room today, or else he might have already put the lights on. Concorde made her way to the middle of the room, the bottom of her shoes cushioned by the plush red rug that covered the floor. Will flicked the lights on and graciously made his way to the middle of the room to stand by her.

"Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself." He grabbed her hand and kissed it.

"My name is William Terry…" He paused, considering something. Whatever he was going to say, he decided against it and simply finished off with, "Regison the third. But you can call me Will."

'_I know.'_ Concorde thought. "You can call me Concorde."

"What an interesting name for such a beautiful woman. Why, is it your real name?" He asked, leading her to a regal looking divan.

"No, it isn't my real name." She admitted. He watched her with silent curiosity, waiting for her to continue, but she never did.

He sat down beside her, and finally realising that she wasn't going to continue any further on the matter, he decided to change the direction of their awkward conversation. "Miss Concorde, what brought you to the islands?"

"I'm here for…business." She said, "My boss plans on buying a large plot of land and developing it. Bring in his hotel empire."

Will's eyes flicked in the dim light, though Concorde did not catch the emotion behind it. Surprise perhaps? No doubt anger, like the rest of them.

"Ah, you're that lady…" He muttered to himself, looking away for a second.

Concorde felt mildly uncomfortable in the situation she found herself in. Not only was she alone with a man she had just 'met', but it was now Concorde realised that his hand had not once left the comfort of her bare knee. It was an odd sensation, even for her. A man had not so much laid a finger on an inch of skin on her body for many years. Unless you counted the Boss in.

It had been quite a long time since she felt chummy enough with someone to let them near enough to begin with.

He sensed her discomfort, and got to his feet. "Would you like a cup of tea? This dreadful weather really does call for a nice warm cup."

"I'd like that." She whispered, turning her head and watching the wind outside swirl around a few stray leaves. In a sudden rush, rain began to pelt against the window panes, filling the room with the sound of it. It brought memories back. Memories of pain and passion, of feeling loved for once in her life. But that was lost. Now, she had Boss. If only she loved him back…

"A nice cup of Earl Gray should pick you up." Will said, as though he could sense her inner turmoil. He carried with him a fragile porcelain cup, with a matching saucer in his hands and held it out to her. She took it without a thank you.

It was warm, and the fine porcelain felt smooth against her lips. Will watched her with a look of admiration. His mouth opened to say something, then shut again. Instead of ruining the moment with words, he kept silent with a look of mild adoration in his eyes.

There was a crash of lightning, and the water that kept the boat afloat surged underneath it, sending the entire mass rocking unsteadily. Though Concorde did not utter a single word throughout the experience, her knuckles had gone white and her eyes were large in fear. The last time she had been caught in such a storm, she had been in the arms of...

The lights flicked uncertainly, the circuits that crept through the walls of the cabin unable to keep a steady pulse of electricity. Will's hand flew to Concorde's shoulder, despite her detesting look and uttered a few short words. "Don't move when it rocks around like this, Miss Concorde. You might fall and injure yourself."

"I know... how to take care of myself." She spat back at him, catching him off guard. The friendly prince had not expected to be snapped at by the fair maiden he was protecting, obviously. She sighed, and as if to say sorry, took hold of his hand to prove just how petrified she really was.

Concorde hated storms more than anything in the world.

Lightning flashed through out the entire room, and Concorde jumped. The contents of her cup were sent across the floor. "I'm sorry!" She gasped, apologising for the first time. Her hands shook as she placed the cup and saucer on the coffee table. On her hands and knees, she began to attempt to sponge out the hot liquid without a towel to soak it up. Her whole body shook, she was terrified.

Will got down onto the floor with her, just in time to hear her squeal in response to another crash of lightning. His hands wrapped around her middle, tugging her towards him. She did not resist him as he pulled her towards his body, nor did she complain when she heard his voice whisper comforts to her. The lights finally gave out, and together they sat on the floor by the divan. Concorde's eyes were wide, but her breathing had calmed somewhat. Will's slender hands were wrapped around her middle, another holding her head to his chest.

"Don't worry, Miss Concorde. It's going to be fine…" He said to her, trying to reassure the terrified woman. "It's just a little storm. It will pass… Promise."

**~X~**

Everyone has been inspecting the damage of the unforeseen storm the next morning. Taro stumbled around sheepishly, feeling overwhelmed by the extreme wrongness of his almost always correct weather predictions. For Vaughn, there was nothing to worry about other than the slight delay he had to put up with when coming to the island.

He was glad to see there was no immediate damage done to his cousin or the animals she cared for. The second of his worries was quickly cleared up as well: Sir Regis mansion was sturdy enough to withstand any storm. Sabrina was not so sturdy however, the loud thunder had shook her up quite a bit.

Maybe that's why he felt a tad bit more lenient towards her when she clung to his side as they walked together through town. By the time they reached the beach, Vaughn was positive he was starting to lose feeling in the tips of his fingers. She was cutting off his circulation.

The beach itself was a mess. Branches had been torn from trees, and a few unlucky sea creatures had been swept to shore while they weren't looking. It was not a pretty sight.

"Oh... I do hope Denny was alright." Sabrina whispered quietly by Vaughn's side. He shook his head. That fisherman could last through any storm. He had been in many out at sea, as he had said on numerous accounts.

Vaughn could imagine an excited Mark, running around, searching for anything of value.

"Please, feel free to pop in whenever you like, Miss Concorde. I ever so enjoyed your company."

Vaughn's eyes diverted from the scattered remains of the storm to the two blondes that were just making their way off the boat that obstructed the view of the boundless ocean. His distaste for the two was quite clear on his face. The woman, the same that he had met just a week ago, was the talk of the town. Julia had been distraught over the whole mess that had been created.

As for Will, well, they simply shared a mutual agreement to avoid each other. Vaughn never liked the guy, but the events after Chelsea's shock departure had left them on a crumbling platform. Will blamed Vaughn for everything, even if he did not voice it directly.

In reality, Vaughn was not surprised to see the most hated woman, and his most hated man hanging around each other. It made sense, didn't it?

Concorde whispered something to him, clasping onto Wills hand with a sort of tenderness that Vaughn managed to catch. The two hugged, and Vaughn did not feel Sabrina when she gently started to tug on his sleeve. "Vaughn… Vaughn let's go…" She said quietly by his side, but he did not respond. He was busy watching the two interact with each other.

Will kissed the woman's hand politely, and she started to walk back. She seemed to be having a little difficulty walking across the sand in heels, but even if she did, she was going to conceal it as best she could.

Vaughn and Sabrina had not moved from their position, and they were in the direct path of the woman. Sabrina continued to tug at his arm, willing him to move and avoid confrontation. But Vaughn wanted to confront her. He wanted to see her eyes once more, to hear her voice.

Concorde stopped for a second, a few meters ahead of them. She cocked her head to the side, considering the two of them for a second. Suddenly, she smiled and waved at them. Despite the friendly gesture, a sinister look was hidden behind the mask. Vaughn could see it. He had worn the same mask.

Concorde walked directly up to them, never once breaking stride. And then she did something that took Sabrina off guard, causing her to squeak like a scared child. Concorde walked right between Vaughn and Sabrina, forcing the two apart. Sabrina stumbled back, catching the second long conversation between Vaughn and Concorde.

"Morning, Vaughn."

The moment she was gone, Sabrina rushed back and latched onto her man. Timidly, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Worry filled her light coloured eyes. "H-how does she know your name?"

Vaughn shrugged. His glare bore into the ground as he considered the same question. How _did _she know his name? It's not like anyone would have bothered to share his name in conversation, let alone a conversation with her. It just didn't add up.

Oh well, that was just another thing to add to the list of things he needed to ask Julia.

**A/N: Just for future reference to the readers- I own IoH, not SI. But I felt that Will is somewhat important in the big scheme of things. If he's a little OOC, it's my bad. And I'd love little constructive tips on how to make him less so in the future. Also, because I know nothin' bout the map in SI, I'm using the IoH map. Don't get confused, my lovelies.**


	5. Confronting Ideas

Julia was a hard worker. She woke up early and stayed up late, tending to the needs of the people who relied on her. She always felt guilty when she ducked from her station behind the counter for a few minutes, and she felt worse when she came back and found someone waiting for her. Though she never saw it, people didn't really mind at all. They knew just how tough she had had it lately, and they were ready to sympathise. Julia just wasn't ready to receive.

Among working, when Julia did have any free time, there were two people she kept company with. Elliot, who had recently professed his love for her, and Mark, her number one customer. Elliot was hardly ever seen at his real home now, because he was constantly there to keep Julia company. She got tired of it, sometimes, but the rosy cheeks of her boyfriend always made her forget everything. And Mark, well, when Chelsea left he automatically clung to the next best thing. Their relationship wasn't close, but when it was just one of those really bad days they knew who was there to comfort them.

Of course, when Vaughn was around he was just as important as any other, because even though he hardly talked, Vaughn was family. And as far as Julia was concerned, family was now the most important thing in the world. You forget how truly precious things are, and then you lose them. Julia experienced it first hand. And really, the dinner time conversation wasn't terrible. It wasn't great by any means, but it was lively enough to stop Julia's passive aggressive side from threatening Vaughn.

Tonight just happened to be a bit quieter than usual. Her blue eyes locked on Vaughn's fork, watching as he flipped a piece of carrot over, and over, and over. Playing with his most hated food like he did, only this time he hadn't touched any of the other choices on his plate.

"What's up?" Julia asked, setting her own utensils down and crossing her arms.

Vaughn's purple eyes peered up at her through the shadow of his broad brimmed hat. He grunted in response, and Julia's stare hardened.  
"Nothin'. Don't got nothin' on my mind."

"Don't lie to me Vaughn. You know I hate it when you try to hide things." She said, shaking her head.

Vaughn sighed, and straightened his back. His eyes flickered suspiciously, calculating the pros and cons of telling his cousin what was on his mind. He came to the conclusion that having her prattle on about it for the next couple weeks was by far worse than telling her straight up. "You know anything about the new woman? The one who's tearing down the inn?"

Julia gave him an uncertain look. "Not really. I've never actually spoken to her. All I know is that everyone else hates her, so I advise you to stay away from her too."

Vaughn's lips curled into a frown, and he glanced down at his plate. "Then… Strange."

"What's strange?" Julia asked.

With a distant gaze, Vaughn shrugged. "I was with Sabrina this morning. Saw that person with Will on the beach. When she was walking back up from the boat, she smiled at me and greeted me."

Julia tilted her head to the side, and her blonde curls fell across her shoulder. "It's weird, but I still don't understand what's got you so irked."

"She knew my name."

"Huh…" Julia's face dropped, her deep eyes hidden behind a thick curtain of eyelashes. She certainly wouldn't have guessed that, and she understood what Vaughn was caught up on now. But, as weird as it was, she probably just found it out from one of the villagers. After a moment's pause, Julia stated her reasoning, and Vaughn nodded in response.

"I came to the same conclusion. Just wondering… How'd she put the name to the face." Julia could tell that he still wasn't telling her something. The way his words rolled together, and the pitch of the last word made it almost sound like a question. She leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of her cousin's face.

"Well, what do you think? I know there's something in that noggin."

His lilac eyes rose up from their focus on the table, those dark, hard pupils connecting with Julia's. His expression was blank, each one of his features held to a straight line. "Have you seen her? Up close I mean."

Julia shook her head. She just didn't have the time these days.

He sat up and ran one of his hands across his forehead, tipping his hat off in the process. "Have you heard her speak? Have you actually listened to her, the way she uses her words?"

Once again, Julia shook her head. She had only seen glimpses of the woman to begin with. It's not like she'd bother coming into her shop.

Vaughn's fingers came down his face, and Julia caught a glimpse of his eyes through the gaps. For a split second, they looked vulnerable. In that one moment, Julia managed to catch the chance to see just how pained Vaughn was. It hadn't been good on him.

"She… She's a dead ringer, Julia. A real dead ringer…"

Cutlery clattered to the hard tiled floor, and Julia's hands came down onto the table top, filling the room with a loud bang. She stood, leaning over towards Vaughn, her breath tickling his nose. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head again. Only this time, it wasn't an answer, it was a warning. "She's gone Vaughn. You know that. I know that. You're just imagining things."

Vaughn's second of vulnerability was bricked up, and he got to his feet to match Julia's stance. Vaughn was cold, silent. He made his moves through stealth, while Julia was subjected to making loud noises to make her point known.

"I'm not imagining things." He growled, softly. "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just stating a fact."

The air in the room felt ice cold. The silence was only broken by the sound of their erratic breath as both tried to keep a level head. To Vaughn, it seemed like she wasn't even bothering to try and see it from his side. He scoffed at her ignorance and stormed out of the room.

"Vaughn! You have to let go. We've all moved on, why can't you?"

He stopped, just at the door, and turned on his heel. His sharp eyes shot daggers at Julia, and she winced at the cruel look she was receiving.

"Because, if I let go, I've got nothin'. If I let go, there's nothing left to hold on to."

Vaughn left, and just as he did, Elliot walked in just in time to see Julia slump down into her seat. The front door slammed, and the little bell that rang swung from side to side, disturbed by the sudden jolt.

"Julia, what's going on?" Elliot asked, his voice quivering as he slowly walked over to Julia.

She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. Elliot hesitated for a second, before pulling her up to her feet and hugging her. Tear's stained his shoulder as she dug her head into the material. "Elliot…"

"Shh, Julia… What's wrong?" He whispered, curling her blonde locks around his finger.

"Everything wrong now." She said, wriggling closer to him. "I want it all to go back to how it was."

**~X~**

Vaughn wanted to punch the wall. He wanted to take out all his anger, frustration and pain on the hardy brick wall he faced. But he didn't dare lay a hand on it. Last time he had he ended up shattering his knuckle bones and he hadn't even felt it. Besides, what good would it do? It wasn't going to bring her back, nothing would.

Something gave him a rough nudge in the shoulder, and he spun around with an irritated look. It fell away in an instant though, because he was staring into the large, chestnut eyes of a beautiful grullo horse. It was just then that Vaughn realised he had walked into the back paddock of the shop and left the gate hanging wide open. When he got angry, he lost touch with what he was doing, apparently. In response to his look of surprise, the horse whinnied softly and nudged it's snout into his shoulder again.

He gave it a weary smile and reached out, running his gloved hand along the horse's strong jaw and through it's mane. "Hey there, Doorbell." He said to it.

The origin of the horse's name was an interesting one. It had been tradition to name female horses with a name that ended with bell. When Vaughn had been forced to move in with his Aunt and cousin, the young Julia had suggested the plan to him to make him smile. It, of course, did not cause him to show any sort of happy emotion, but it did stick. Unfortunately for this poor horse, they found out that names that ended with bell were hard to come by, and they ran out fast.

Doorbell was the next best thing, and she didn't seem to mind. In fact, it suited her personality. Vaughn loved her, it was a shame he only got to see her two days a week.

"You probably would have liked my carrots for dinner, wouldn't you? Shame I left them behind after storming out, eh?" He said soothingly, and the horse's intelligent eyes blinked back at him. She nudged Vaughn again. She had been cooped up in the small paddock for a while now, and Vaughn wondered when the last time she got out for some good exercise.

"Yeah, I wish I could get out too…"

Vaughn smiled and went into the supply shed, Doorbell following after him and waiting just outside the door. He grabbed a sturdy pair of reins and a riding blanket and got to work. All the fiddling and readjusting kept his mind from wondering, letting it focus on the work that he loved. Doorbell was as patient as ever, nickering softly as he worked. It was in a matter of minutes before he had everything fitted, saddle and all. And then he finally did what he had been aching to do. He mounted the glorious beast and grabbed hold of the reins. He felt like he was one with the animal, at one with nature as a whole, and he felt like for once, he could be at peace. The feeling only elated to great heights as he got Doorbell to run down the cobblestone path and past every building that made him ache inside.

It was dark out, but navigating the forest was an easy task for Vaughn. He spent a majority of his time under the cool canopy, at one with nature.. The strong bond between him and the animal meant that the whole thing went smoothly, and he made sure to bring her back to a trot when they got into the thickest part of the forest.

He didn't receive much peace though. The cicadas were chirping endlessly, and just as he came to pass the little broken off road to the church, he caught sight of the farmer. Mark had become a devout member of the church lately, and Vaughn found it rather funny. When Chelsea left he turned to religion, replacing his best friend with the nurturing love of the priesthood. Now, there wasn't anything wrong with that, but Vaughn doubted that Mark had suddenly had an epiphany to join up either.

He halted, and called out to the blonde. "You're up late."

Mark looked up and brought a smile to his face, jogging up to Vaughn. He began to pet the side of the horses' neck as he looked up to Vaughn and said, "It's not too late." He stopped there, and Vaughn could see a hint of uncertainty in the emerald eyes that looked up at him. "I've needed the extra support lately too. Everything's just been…out of hand."

It seemed like that was the response everyone gave now. Just as everything began to fall back into its usual rotation, everything got ruffled right up again. The island was a roosting chicken that never got a moment's peace.

"That woman, she's gone and ruined everything. And she reminds me of…" Mark shook his head, and began to make his way. "I'd better get home, get to bed."

Vaughn frowned, what was he going to say? "Wait." He muttered, dismounting Doorbell and walking over to grab Mark's shoulder. "What were you about to say?"

Mark looked a little scared. He and Vaughn had never been close, and Vaughn still towered over him. Having the man grab onto his shoulder was a little menacing. "It's not all that important. You'll think I'm crazy anyway."

Vaughn's eyes narrowed threateningly, and he leaned in to let out a snarl. "Tell me. Now."

"Alright, alright… I was at the diner, a couple of days ago. That new lady was there, Concorde. I went up to her and sat down, 'cus I wanted to give her a piece of my mind-"

"Finally standing up for things, huh?"

Mark roughly shoved Vaughn's hand off his shoulder and gave him a sharp look. "That's not the point. So if you want to know, I suggest you shut up and listen." Vaughn looked to the side. "Anyway, she did something that… Made me think. I was practically telling her to get lost, but then she started singing to the music that was playing in the diner. It was a… Queen song."

Vaughn looked back, and rose a brow at him. "What's that gotta do with anything? She's a loon." Alright, so he had just wasted two minutes listening to this fool prattle on.

Mark glared at him, his happy face slowly breaking away in the presence of the man. "Chelsea's favourite band was Queen. I thought you might have known that, considering that you two were so close."

"So what? There are plenty of people out there that like Queen. It's just a coincidence." Vaughn snapped, offended that Mark would dare dig into the relationship Vaughn held with Chelsea. It was difficult, even when Chelsea was still around.

"Oh so I guess you hadn't noticed that they sound the same? Or that they look nearly identical? I guess you never really cared then."

Vaughn shoved him, and Mark stumbled back, nearly tripping back on a bulging root. The two glared at each other, their gem coloured eyes filling with fire. This was exactly why they never got on. Both were so protective of a girl who just didn't want to be protected, and they drove her to make the decision she did. At least, they were one of the causes.

"Of course I have!" Vaughn spat, his figure lurching forward in a dominant stance. "Why the hell do you think I asked? Do you really think I _care _about your 'emotional' issues? I just had my head bitten off by Julia because I told her the exact same thing!"

Mark's hateful glare softened and he trembled. From Vaughn's perspective, he was a weakling. He didn't have the walls to protect himself from the pain, and Vaughn pitied him for that. But now, watching Mark shiver in realisation that he wasn't going insane, it nearly made him laugh.

"I… What if…"

Vaughn stopped him there, shaking his head. "No, it's not her. It can't be. She's so cruel, heartless… You can see it in her eyes, they aren't the same person."

Mark turned, his blonde fringe falling over his eyes. "It's hard. She's like a living reminder. I don't like it."

"Me neither." Vaughn went back to Doorbell, who was grazing on a few of the scarce shrubs that sat on the forest floor. He grabbed onto her reins and pulled himself up once again. But when he turned around and began to head home, Mark had already run off.

If there was one thing Vaughn could be relieved by, it was that by tomorrow morning, he'd be gone again.

**A/N: You know, in the game I've never actually married anyone. I felt bad when all the men ended up with red hearts. . And I kinda liked the text boxes.**

**Hmm, next chapter should be interesting. Because, there may possibly be a little bit of confrontation going on and yippidy doo da. Don't you just love school holidays? Though, I know a majority of my readers reside in America, and you all just started back.**

**Please review, cus you know I love it when you do, even if I don't get round to replying. And I apologise for any mistakes, I reread, but I was tired when I did and I might have missed something.**


	6. New Office, New Neighbour

Concorde was hoping, when she got off the boat a little over two weeks ago, that she would be able to do all her work via phone and computer. She had forgotten, or chosen to ignore, the fact that there was no internet access to the island, and that mobile connections continuously cut out because the closest station was on the mainland, hours away. She had managed to postpone any form of travel so far, but when her mobile finally got the text from Boss it had been struggling to receive, she knew that she had to make the sickening trip into the city.

It detailed to her the address of the hotel franchise' current office in the city, and that most of her work would be done from there, as well as the weekly trip to the island. It also mentioned that they would have the keys to her brand new apartment in the city. Great, so she had to stay there to.

At least she'd be able to grab a packet of cigarettes while she was there.

She would have done better if she hadn't bought a ticket for the boat that left at the spritely time of 3:00 a.m. But considering that was the only boat that was reliable in its arrival and departure, it was the safest bet for her to take it.

Apart from the erratic movements, the constant threat of throwing up and the general darkness of the early morning, Concorde had forgotten one important factor when she booked her ticket. It was Friday morning, and she would be sharing the boat trip with someone she'd rather not confront.

Not that she hadn't already taken the steps towards confronting him already. That day on the beach she had not been afraid to make her presence known and walk right through him and his new girl. She scowled at the thought.

It wasn't that she loved him. She never had. Well, Concorde never loved him. She hardly even knew him. No, but the little part of Chelsea that still nagged at her somewhere inside her head had loved him. And she had equally despised Sabrina for her strange ability to entrance him with her cutesy look and shy demeanour.

Just put on a smile until you get home, she used to tell herself, and then you can frown and throw hateful words all you like. But now she didn't need to worry, she could do whatever she liked whenever she liked.

Concorde held onto the boat's railing as she dipped her upper body over the edge, feeling her early breakfast coming up. The entire dreadful experience did not play any major role in her mood, she just wished she hadn't eaten so much before catching the trip. She moaned and brought herself up to stand somewhat straight, running a hand through her silver blonde hair.

The boat took a nauseating tip, and she hurriedly brought herself inside before she could be tossed overboard. The room was empty, apart from a sleepy looking bartender who was running an off white rag around the insides of a glass. The light that lit up the dark hallway leading to a few overnight rooms flickered. It reminded her of her first ever trip on the boat, what started it all…

With a thud, Concorde caved into the comfortable window seat that was nailed to the floor. The pillows were incredibly soft, and it was still very early in the morning. Perhaps she could get away with a few hours sleep. She yawned silently and curled up as well as she could on the seat, hoping that the gentle rocking would work as a benefit towards her rather than something that made her feel sick to the bone.

It only felt like minutes until she felt something fall onto her head. Whatever it was, it was heavy enough to jump Concorde into a good enough level of consciousness. From underneath the broad disk that obscured much of her sight, the sunlight that covered the room's floor told Concorde that she had slept well enough for the sun to rise. She also caught sight of a pair of legs, the left of which was tapping impatiently against the floor. What the hell did they want, and why did they have to go and wake her up? The obnoxious twit.

Concorde sat up, letting whatever had been resting on the side of her face fall to the ground. It was a hat. A very iconic hat. It was none other than Vaughn's very own worn out Stetson, which meant…

"What do you want?" Concorde said sourly, glancing up at the freakishly tall cowboy that was tapping his boot at her. Why would he care what she was doing?

He bent down to grab his hat off the floor, and just to annoy him that little bit more, Concorde kicked it out of his reach just as he made to grab it. He shot a glare in her direction before shifting his position to swipe it off the floor. Finally, with it placed safely back on his head, he came to sit right beside Concorde. She impulsively tilted her body away from him, like he was some dirty urchin off the side of the street.

"Thought you were doing business from the island." He said, his deep voice etched with irritation.

Concorde looked at him with a look of disbelief. And once again the same thought popped into her head, the one that asked 'why did he care'? Still, she saw no reason not to answer. "Bad phone connections. And I need to make some inquiries in the city as well."

Unlike her, he did not show the courtesy to respond. Now that he had gotten what he had wanted to know, he stood back up and started for the little passageway that lead to the rooms. He probably had a room permanently rented out, with how much he travelled. Concorde remembered how much she hated his travel habits, it was like he was never even there.

"How's your love life going for you?"

Vaughn stopped mid step, twisting around to give her a queer look. Concorde held her composure, producing a sinister look to accompany her offhand comment. From her view, she might as well have a little fun freaking him out, because by the end of the year she would be gone for good.

And she would have successfully ruined the integrity of the island she once loved more than anything else in the world.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous. Concorde could see the muscles in his arm flex, even through the thick material of his shirt.

She shrugged, tilting her head to the side as she watched the confused expression on his face. "Concorde. But I thought you already knew that?"

He turned away from her and began to walk off again. Concorde wasn't sure if she was meant to hear the next sentence that came out of his mouth, but even if she wasn't, it was still directed at her.

"Better question... Why are you here?"

She didn't see him again. Even when the boat was securely docked, he did not emerge from his room on the boat. He was set on making sure the two didn't meet again in the near future. Concorde could see that he was on the edge of blowing a fuse.

When she got off the boat, she was irritated by the fact that she'd have to lug around two heavy suitcases for the rest of the day until she got to her permanent housing. She spent her money on a cab to the office, glaring daggers at the driver when he unceremoniously chucked her luggage into the boot of the car. Unfortunately, the drive was short and the price was high. Concorde did not like getting ripped off, but then she remembered that she was in the city, and getting your money taken from you was a part of everyday life.

The office was bleak, with pale walls and an overall stale atmosphere. From Concorde's years of experience, she would have thought they might have put a few colourful walls in to increase employee morale, or whatever it was meant to do. But rather, they stayed for the stately look, plenty of white and gray.

The receptionist was male, oddly enough. His dark hair was spiked in random directions, and it shone in the fluorescent white light due to the masses of gel in it. A pair of thick rimmed glasses sat on his sharp nose, and his hazel eyes scanned from one end of the computer screen to the other. Concorde thrummed her nails along the plastic desk, waiting for him to finally give her some sort of attention.

" Welcome..." He started, slowly tearing his eyes away from the screen. "To Le Royale Chambre hotel branch. How may I help you?" He ended, rather dismally despite the hotel's cliché name.

"My name is Concorde."

His eyes grew and he did a double take of his computer screen before looking back up to the face of the visitor. Concorde wondered if he had just received an email about her expected arrival. He stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk, towards a blank door that Concorde hadn't even noticed until then. He opened it and pressed himself against it, leaving enough room for her to walk past, along with her luggage.

The room it lead into was as about unmemorable as the one they just left. It was square, white, and there were corner desks placed at each point of the room. An individual sat behind each desk, two of them wore ear pieces and were talking away, while the others were busy typing on their computers. Despite it being a rather small office, Concorde wondered just how much Boss had invested into the construction of this place, let alone the employees.

"Do I have an office, or do I have to sit amongst these...people?" Concorde said, suddenly overcome with a level of boredom. She was right, this place really needed some colour.

The receptionist laughed sheepishly and began the brisk walk to yet another inconspicuously placed door. "We're here to take very good care of you, Miss Concorde."

Much to her surprise, the expanse that was her office was bright red. The table was glass topped, with shiny black legs. A large computer sat on one side, and there was a graphics tablet sitting beside a sketch pad. Obviously, Boss was insistent on giving her the equipment needed to do all the design work. Over all, she was pleased. Except for one tiny thing.

"Get rid of the cat." She said sharply, pointing a finger at the cutesy portrait of a ginger cat hanging on the wall.

The receptionist looked surprised. "But you like cats, Monsieur B-"

The look Concorde gave him stopped him in his tracks. "He may be my fiancé, but he still doesn't know scratch about me. Now take it down."

The man slipped out of the room to grab a chair, and quickly got around to pulling the cheesy picture off the wall. Concorde was already settling down into the comfy leather chair behind her desk when she saw the man dump the picture in the waste bin. He was about to leave when Concorde stood up and leaned forward.

"What's your name?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose, which had been slowly sinking down his face throughout the entire experience. "Kyle."

Concorde paused. "Well, Kyle..."She walked around her desk and came to stand opposite him. He was of average height, but Concorde's heels meant she was just above him.

She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek and along his jaw, his stubble prickling the tip of her finger. She smirked at the bewildered look on his face. "I can call on you whenever I need anything, right?"

He blinked a few times. "O-of course."

"Good." Concorde pecked him on the lips, and his breath caught in his throat. She turned around and headed back to her desk, her laughter filling the room. Kyle quickly shut the door, closing her in on her own dark humour, letting out a sigh of relief when he was finally out of her reach.

"What's she like?" A girl asked from her desk.

"She's crazy... just like they said." Kyle ran a hand through his hair, unsuccessfully due to all the gel in it, and started to walk out to the front desk. "She's pretty to look at, though... "

The girl gave him a disapproving look, and he winked at her as he left to return to his post. Another dismal day at work, but with an interesting twist.

Concorde had shrugged off her jacket and was fumbling with all the bits and bobs that were strewn across her table. Much to her dismay, said computer was a Mac, and Concorde hadn't a clue how it worked. She couldn't even find the power button. Muttering profanities as she went, she got up from her seat and was about to open the door to her office to ask one of the workers, but she stopped just before she pushed.

"No... They'll think I'm incompetent." Concorde told herself, turning back to look at the desk. There was a sketch pad there... Perhaps she could bluff it, and work on that until she finally figured out how to turn on the damned computer on. She could spin a lie about liking the traditional medium too.

Yup, that'd work.

Sitting back down, she grabbed the sketch book and a pencil, opening it up to the first clean page. She held the pencil loose in her hand, watching as it tapped against the paper. Now...what was she meant to be doing?

Concorde slowly turned her head to the computer again, scowling. There was probably an email on there from Boss, _telling _her what to do. Great. Just... Great!

**~X~**

"Yes, the land is in prime position." Concorde said into the phone as she walked down the dark street. "If we have the building facing in a south easterly direction, occupants would have a divine view of the ocean, and those staying in the rooms that face the other way will get a view of the forest. So nobody loses out."

Boss responded to her in French, like he usually did. Their conversations were often subject to this odd mix of languages. Neither of them was too strong at the other's tongue, so they settled half way. It was a wonder they even managed to form a 'loving' relationship on that basis.

"You know I hate Macintosh. Why did you not order me a normal computer?" Concorde chided, having finished her explanation on the scenery and the exact schematics of basic design.

The man on the other end of the phone sighed, and he sounded like he had been expecting that comment all along. "Yes. But the program bundle will be far more-"

"I don't even know how to turn the damn thing on!" She whispered, scathingly. She was sick of his excuses. He sent her here, he might as well have kept himself on her good side and gotten her what she had ordered.

The onslaught of apologies on the other end of the line forced Concorde to pull the phone from her ear, waiting for it to die down. She took a look at her surroundings. Apart from the busted streetlight she was standing underneath, she seemed to be in a fairly clean part of the city. It was like a gap street, where the trash and the royalty meet, but no one really bothers claiming the territory as their own. She'd passed plenty of riffraff on her walk to her apartment, but overall she thought that the city had cleaned up its act fairly well since she left.

"Con...Are you...Answer m..." Oh, right. _Him._

"Yes yes, what is it?" She asked, heaving a sigh before continuing on her walk. If she was right, she'd be arriving soon. In her hand was a pair of keys, linked together with a little circular security sensor. She had grabbed them off the receptionist on her way out, not forgetting to give him a menacing glare on her way out.

"I love you." He said, his voice soft and reassuring of the fact. Concorde closed her eyes as she muttered the words back to him, but it was easy to tell that there was no emotion hidden in those words.

"I have to go now. Bye."

She tucked the phone back into her pocket as she took the bend around the corner. Just as she expected, the lighting brightened somewhat and the buildings were no longer blank. Many provided room for the balconies of the apartments they harboured. Concorde was silently glad when she recognised the cleanest of the buildings to be the one she would be staying in for the majority of the year.

Glancing down at the key in her hand, Concorde wondered how far up her apartment would be. Among travelling by sea, Concorde was not too fond of heights either. Not scared, by any means, but they made her feel a tad bit uneasy.

She came up to the door and waved the little sensor connected to the key over the detector, pushing through when she heard the lock release. The wall to the left was covered in individual letterboxes, some full, other's empty. To the front, there were two options of travel. Stairs, or a shiny new elevator. It wasn't a hard choice to make.

"Now...which to pick." She ran her finger's along the buttons lightly, estimating where her apartment might be. "Number four... Level four?"

She was wrong. It turned out her apartment was a level up from where she was, so she walked the rest of the way, thumping her heavy bags behind her. The building was silent, which was good. She wouldn't have to worry about loud neighbours.

When she opened the door to the apartment, she was greeted with the smell of fresh lemons. It was a sure sign that the place had seen a thorough clean before she arrived, but she didn't mind. As long as it wasn't dirty anymore. The floor plan was simple, from the front door there was a short hall that lead into the living room and kitchenette. From the living room was a large open arch, which lead into a little alcove with a computer desk and reading lamp. In a straight line from the front door was a large window, and Concorde could see that it opened up onto the balcony. When she stepped further inside, she noticed a door parallel with the kitchenette, presumably the bathroom. There was another door to the right, and it opened up into the small bedroom.

So really, everything leads from one main room. Concorde sighed and chucked her bags onto the couch before opening up the window and stepping outside. As much as she liked the smell of fresh lemons, it was just a little too strong in there. A chair was already out there, turned out to the street. So she sat down and made herself comfortable.

The light of the apartment across the road flickered on, catching her attention. A silhouette started to shuffle around, darting from one side to the other. At one time, the figure jutted to the side suddenly, and Concorde was certain they had just run themselves straight into an object in their panic.

The curtains were thrust open. The window was frosted over for privacy's sake, but the man inside was quick to open them up too and walk right out onto his own dingy balcony.

He looked like a ghost. His skin was pale and shiny, though his bare chest was well toned, as were the muscles on his arms. With the yellow glow of the light behind him, it made him look sickeningly gray. His hair was cut to his shoulders, and fell in thick locks. Whatever he had been doing, he had certainly worked up quite the sweat.

Concorde began to take in the finer details of the man. Not because she had anything better to do, but because she was pleased that her neighbour across the road was a nice piece of eye candy to gawk at. His hair was white, borderline on silver, and when he finally stopped leaning over the edge of the balcony and looked up, Concorde caught a glimpse at his eyes. They were violet.

And then he seemed to have recognised just who was staring at him. Because his perfect features crinkled into a scowl before he turned and slammed the window shut on his way in. It was a wonder the glass didn't shatter.

"Heh. I wonder if he does that often. I don't remember him walking around the house shirtless when we lived together."

**A/N: It's gonna be interesting. Whats going to happen, when Concorde and Vaughn only live less than 6 meters away from each other?**

**On another note, I've been obsessed with the Bee Gees lately. And just when I was listening to Stayin' Alive, I had the weirdest thought. Go watch the video on youtube, and put Vaughn in it. Yes, my mind is that crazy. Not that I'd think Vaughn would be any good at falsetto, let alone singing. But you never know.**

**Not my best chapter, I know. But oh well, hope you enjoy it anyway, my lovelies. And don't forget to review!**


	7. Bubbling Memories

It felt like a storm was brewing in her head. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Even when she stayed stock still, her eyes deformed the world around her. And if the headache and nausea weren't enough to put someone to bed for the whole day, the terrible stabbing pains in her stomach kept her locked in her position beside the bathroom toilet. Her arm was slung around the pipe, gripping on it so hard her knuckles were white. Her hair was damp and stuck to her forehead, a mixture of sweat and stomach fluid that kept it there. Even now, when she had emptied her stomach of its contents, it still convulsed and she would bring up bile and god knows what else, leaving her throat burning endlessly.

That was the last time she would agree to going out for Chinese food with her colleagues. She didn't even like them, and now this! It served her right for trying to be friendly with those that already disliked her.

Her head fell to the toilet bowl seat and she moaned in pain, only to set off another hacking fit from the depths of her inner organs.

Food poisoning. One of the world's worst experiences, even if it lasts little over a day.

**Three years ago...**

Chelsea hadn't been feeling right for the past couple of days. Some had started to worry about the local rancher's wellbeing. She hadn't been up and about nearly as much as she usually was. In fact, she rose from her house late in the day and retired early.

Unfortunately, Chelsea was much more worried about something else that the general tiredness she had been facing as of late. She had been feeling nauseous, particularly in the early hours of the day, and Chelsea began to become anxious that her early morning sickness was a whole lot more than just a tummy bug.

And the one person she wanted to discuss it with was away on business for the rest of the week.

Though, this morning there was only one thought that crossed her mind. She was beginning to wonder why Chen failed to provide necessary items to those of the islands. Things like clothes, detergent, and most importantly, pregnancy tests.

Not that Chelsea was all that enthusiastic about finding out if her recent tummy sickness was something that would take a whole lot more than a week's bed rest to fix. Kids were the last thing on Chelsea's agenda. For one, she planned to be married before she even started considering it, and for another, how was she meant to feed another mouth when she could barely feed herself?

Even so, if it came down to it, Chelsea would have liked the relationship she was in with Vaughn to be a smidgen more stable than it was. One day, everything could be perfect. Then the next, something so silly could have them ripping each other's heads off. Chelsea knew it was wrong, she knew that with each time they fought, there was just another crack that needed to be bandaged. Their relationship was built on sturdy ground, but she couldn't help but wonder how many storms it would take to send everything they worked for falling down.

Was this going to be another hurdle for them to overcome? Or would it bring them closer together? That is, if her aches and pains were more than what she first assumed.

So what else was she supposed to do, other than confide all her worries in the one person who cared for her and nurtured her with a maternal power Chelsea hardly knew as a child. Mirabelle had been quick to bring her into the nest, and was overjoyed when she saw that the farmer girl was starting to bond with the quiet, moody nephew of hers. But Chelsea could see a hint of worry in her eyes, and now she could understand why. She could see all the complications that no one else had.

Such is life when an overprotective, stubborn cowboy and an equally headstrong farmer decide to intertwine.

When Chelsea walked into the shop, she took quick steps towards the front counter, where Mirabelle beamed at her.

"Hello dear—Oh my, you don't look too well. You're white as a sheet!"

Chelsea grimaced, did she really look that bad? Conscious of the aged pair of eyes watching her, she took a quick glance into the kitchen. Julia was absent. Good.

"Mirabelle... I need to ask a favour of you."

Mirabelle looked confused, even more so when Chelsea grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her away from her position and into hall which lead to the living quarters. Chelsea was shaking, and Mirabelle asked why.

"I need to... I think I mi-" Chelsea couldn't pull the words out of her mouth. She dropped Mirabelle's wrist and pressed her back up against the wall, swallowing at the lump that had formed in her throat. "Might be...pregnant."

When Chelsea was greeted by the incredulous look on the older woman's face, she thought that she might have misinterpreted her words to be some sort of ill conceived joke. However, the shock wore off and was replaced with something of a stern look. It got Chelsea worried.

"Chelsea... I can't stress enough how horrible the decision you made is." Mirabelle started, and Chelsea was reminded that the woman in front of her was strict in her traditions, including the one that told her to stay holy until marriage. It was a big no no for Chelsea to break that rule.

"Vaughn and I have been seeing each other for over a year now... Do you really expect us to just... not go there?" Chelsea asked, deciding to plead her case. Though that wasn't what she was here for. She was there for help. "Please, can you tell me if you've got...anything."

Chelsea could sense the argument had been deferred, but it wasn't entirely over. If Mirabelle had her way, Chelsea would never be left alone with Vaughn ever again. At least, not until they had a ring on their fingers.

Tutting softly, Mirabelle beckoned her to follow her into her bedroom. She got down on her knees and began shuffling through boxes she hid underneath her bed, occasionally muttering to herself when she came across something of interest. Eventually, with her head pressed up against the mattress, she made a noise in recognition and pulled a box out. It was a medical kit.

"Dear me... I never thought I'd need to use these. Especially with you." Mirabelle said, popping the clips and opening up the box. There were different sorts of bandages, antiseptic swabs and interestingly enough, a couple boxes of pregnancy tests. Chelsea couldn't help but ask.

"You thought you might get pregnant?"

"Not me, silly! Julia." Chelsea rose a brow, and the middle aged lady rolled her eyes and the girl's ignorance. "I get worried, what with the way she dresses and talks to all the boys. I never know what she's getting up to when she's out."

'_I'm sure she'd use protection...' _Chelsea thought, pondering on the relationships Julia might have had with the men on the island. Chelsea didn't think she had any. _'Not that it means anything. Look where I am now.'_

Mirabelle opened up the box, checking the contents before passing it over to her. "They're a little old, I've had them sitting around since we first moved to the island. But they should work all the same."

She gave Mirabelle a weak smile before leaving the room. "I better...take the test at home." She said, before leaving the shop and hastily making her way back to her ranch. Her fidgety movements were odd, and the way she tried to tuck the box away in her vest was enough to leave people casting wary glances in her direction. She thanked her lucky stars she only lived a minute's pace away, or else she might have found herself fumbling and dropping her precious cargo.

Not that she showed it the courtesy most women would have given it once she was in the safety of her own home. The moment she got through the door she flung the box across the room, letting it rebound and expertly land on the circular dining table. On closer inspection, the wall she had directed her throw at had many small dents across its surface, indicating it was a well practiced and well used move of hers.

Chelsea slumped into a seat adjacent to the table, lifting herself up long enough to pull her phone out of her pocket. With the quick movement of her thumb, she called the person that she found herself needing to speak with the most.

"Should I do it?"

"Do what?"

"Take the test!"

"What test?" Mark's voice asked from the other side of the line. He sounded genuinely confused, and Chelsea realised that until now, she had kept virtually everyone out of the loop. And for a very good reason too. With a little less than 30 people inhabiting the islands, word spread quickly. But she had to tell her best friend some time...right?

"Oh... right." Chelsea paused, her free hand coming up to twirl her mousey brown hair around her finger. "Mark... I think I might be pregnant."

When she received silence in response, Chelsea lifted the phone from her ear to check that she hadn't accidentally disconnected. Warily, she called out Mark's name into the phone, trying to get some sort of recognition from the man.

Finally, she heard him sigh. The way his voice wavered as he repeated her name back to her made her cringe.

After some time, Mark finally made a coherent sentence. "What have you gotten yourself in to Chels?"

"I don't know..." She admitted, tugging at her hair. "I really don't know anymore. It feels like everything's just been heading downhill for me now. If it comes back positive, it'll just be another mistake to add to the pile that's slowly gathering in the corner."

Another sigh.

"Well... you might as well get it over and done with. Want me to come over?"

"No thanks. I don't need a guy standing by the bathroom door while I have to pee on a stick." Chelsea answered humourlessly, though she could almost sense the boyish smile on Mark's face.

"Alright... ring back when you know the results, okay?"

"Okay... Bye."

Chelsea took the phone from her ear and placed it back in her pocket. She reached out from the bent up box on the other side of the table, stopping in mid reach to consider her next words.

"It's all your fault, you know that?" She said to the box, letting her hand fall to the table with a thud. "If I had been born a guy there wouldn't be any problem now would there? And here I am, having to do all this icky business just to find out that protection isn't all that protective."

Chelsea's hand slapped down on the box, crumpling it even further. "Wait till Vaughn finds out... He's gonna have a heart attack."

And so, with her fingers crossed, Chelsea went into the bathroom.

She slumped to the ground, staring at the two pink lines that told her that her worst fears had been realised, predicting a whole life change that Chelsea just wasn't ready for. But even so, the next big hurdle seemed to be getting a whole lot bigger. How was she going to tell Vaughn?

If only luck had been on her side that day, maybe then it wouldn't have leaded her to the events that changed her whole life. Maybe, she wouldn't have been driven away. Her life might have turned out differently, and though she may not have known it, it might have turned out a whole lot better than it did.

**The Present...**

Concorde had managed to steal herself away from the bathroom floor and drag herself to her bed, with a bucket to place on the floor just in case. Her churning stomach reminded her of it all. It reminded her of what she had tried so hard to forget and bury.

She was unsettled by how easy it had been for those memories to bubble up to the surface. One moment in time had set it all off, and she was worried about how much peace she found reliving the moments of her old life that she distantly held on to. In that one moment of weakness, Concorde wondered if it was really all worth it.

If she just gave up the disguise and went back home, to the islands... She was sure that they would have accepted her back. They were the kind of people to accept mistakes and move on from them.

But Chelsea had not seen it when she made a mistake. So would Concorde be any different?

She tucked her head into her pillow, blocking out the world and holding her aching head in a soft nest. Without intention, she drifted into sleep. And she dreamt of all the wonderful memories she had of the islands. There were no regrets, no guilt, no betrayal. Only smiles and friendliness and warmth. Only love.

**A/N: It's been a month. I know, I was expecting to have this posted sooner than that, so I apologise for that. And it's fairly short too, but I suppose that comes with a purpose of not revealing all too much in one shot. **

**I don't know when the next update will be, hopefully sometime soon. But I can't guarantee it, because I have my School Certificate Examinations next week (nooooooo) and I need to focus on those. And yet, here I am writing this, two days before my first exam. **


	8. Old Wounds

"And tonight we shall praise the Harvest Goddess in all her glory, and pray that she may continue to bless our islands with great prosperity and life."

Nathan finished the morning's sermon with a final, rich praise to the Harvest Goddess. Mark could feel the church goers shift in their seats, ready to be out and continue with their days. But Mark did not raise his head. His hands remained clasped together and his eyes squeezed shut, because he was praying silently for something much more than just good weather and growth.

But he was quickly disturbed from the troubled silence he was in. Though he had been expecting it, the gentle hand that usually found its way to his shoulder was not present. Instead, it had been replaced with a much larger, much rougher hand. A hand that could only belong to a man that was just as intimidating as it felt.

Mark turned his head up towards the side, not surprised when his eyes caught on to the towering figure of a certain cowboy. His eyes, with their perplexing colour, bore through Mark's flesh and almost made him wince.

"What do you want?"

"I need to speak with you."

He stood up, and silently followed Vaughn out of the church and into the depths of the forest that surrounded it. He let himself look back at the Goddess Pond for a second, praying that she would help him in facing what he knew would come.

Soon, they had gotten so deep into the thickets that only the Witch Princess would have been able to hear them, and it was only then the cowboy stopped his fast paced walking. He spun around to face Mark, startling him out of his _almost _peaceful state.

"She's right across the street from me."

Mark gave Vaughn a look of bewilderment. Whatever he was trying to get at, it was far too complex for the farmer to understand without a little more than a hint.

"I'm sorry..." Mark said, closing his eyes and sighing. "But what the hell are you talking about?"

Vaughn never seized to shock Mark. He himself was a friendly, peaceful man, and something about Vaughn's passive aggressive nature shook him to his core. Perhaps that's why they had clashed constantly, even before Chelsea left. So when Vaughn shook Mark by the shoulders, he nearly cried out in astonishment.

"She...Concorde..." Vaughn breathed, barely managing to contain his frustration, "Lives in the apartment across the road from me. Right across the bloody road."

Vaughn's jaw clenched and unclenched, Mark could see the muscles working underneath his skin. He let go of Mark's shoulder, and took a step back.

Mark's green eyes grew in shock, coming to the realisation that Concorde had just come to haunt another part of their life. So, dumbfounded, he asked Vaughn what he was going to do about it.

"What can I do about it?" He hissed, "I don't have the money to move. But I sure as hell won't be going onto my balcony any time soon." His brow furrowed, and Mark knew that Vaughn was revisiting a recent memory of his.

"I don't understand why she's doing this. She's driving the whole island crazy." Mark said, exercising his deep connection with nearly every villager that lived on the islands. From the man that was about to lose his well loved inn, to the friendly natives that lived deep in the jungle, there wasn't one person that hadn't been affected in their own little way.

"I can't imagine how hard Julia is taking it."

Mark's comment took its own turn to catch Vaughn off guard. He had been observing the forest floor, rubbing at his chin in deep thought until he was snapped back into reality with Mark's words. Julia, the closest thing to family Vaughn had, would have been the most affected by all of this.

Perhaps that's why she had gone off at him so hard just a week or so ago.

Vaughn's angled face grew stern, and his eyes were narrowed surreptitiously. "She told me she hadn't had the time to get a good look at the woman." He said, relaying their little tiff to Mark.

So she said, Mark thought to himself. He turned his head away from the cowboy, letting his eyes wander their own path through the forest, yearning for an escape from this conversation. "Even Julia has her own days off. It's not like she the type of person to stay in her room and sulk away her depression."

Though he wasn't looking, he could feel the hot glare he was being given. It wasn't his fault he had accidentally put Vaughn's own habits into his example.

"There's no chance she hadn't seen her, and even if she hasn't... she must have heard all the rumours going around." The rumours, how many had Mark heard in the past week? Too many to count. They ranged from the absurd to the reasonable, from secret cloning devices to coincidences.

The spurs on Vaughn's boots tore together when he pushed his heels back, and for one short second the jeering sound of metal on metal was all they thought about.

There was a moment's silence, and Mark considered the opportunity of running out of the uncomfortable position he was in.

"You have no idea how much I worry about her."

Mark turned his attention back to the cowboy, who almost seemed vulnerable in this one moment where he let his true emotions show. His face, hidden behind the shadows of his Stetson, was hung low, and his gloved hands were tucked into the pockets of his black denim jeans. It was like the true Vaughn had left, and in his place stood a tall, awkward teenager who had just professed his feelings to the prettiest girl in school

But even though Mark was at a loss for words, he knew just was Vaughn had intended through his own. Vaughn, Chelsea's closest friend, annoying neighbour and her long-term lover, was kept so out of the loop during the last weeks of Chelsea's presence.

Hell, he only found out his girlfriend was pregnant after she left. And for all they knew, there might have been a little replica of the silver-haired man crawling around now, just shy of his second birthday. Mark had no idea how much that must have hurt.

He reached out to the crestfallen man, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. Vaughn made no attempt to even acknowledge the closeness of a fellow male, but Mark knew he wasn't so out of it to block out all physical feelings.

"Don't worry, we're gonna figure this all out." He said, squeezing Vaughn's shoulder. "And we're gonna send that devil woman back to where she came from."

Some level of sense returned to the man, and he recognised that he was making contact with a man he more than disliked. So with one rough movement, Vaughn shoved Mark's hand away from him, and the cold, heartless fire that burned within his eyes returned.

"Fine." He snapped, almost hissing with determination. "But first we find out who she really is."

Mark closed his eyes, hearing the sound of Vaughn retreating. When he was gone, and the young farmer was left in his wake, he opened his eyes once more and sighed. "The problem is... I don't think any of us want to find out."

**~X~**

Sabrina sat down, patiently waiting for Vaughn to return. She knew he was often off on his own, and he enjoyed having his own personal space, but she had grown slightly anxious. He should have been there to take her on their walk already.

Sabrina looked up from her pale hands towards Julia, who had just left her position behind the counter to come sit by her. She could see the dark rings underneath Julia's blue eyes, and how her blonde waves of hair seemed to have frizzed in an unkempt manner. It was obvious, even to the shy girl, that Julia hadn't been getting much sleep at all lately.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked, tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear. Julia glanced up, smiling as she nodded her head in response. The smile didn't survive long.

"You look terribly tired. You really should take a day off..." Sabrina added, still worried about her closest friend's cousin.

Julia closed her eyes, contemplating the idea. "I'll be alright... It's just tough, running the place all by yourself." Sabrina understood her position entirely. "But I gotta do it. It's not a big business, but it's a valuable one, and I have to keep it running."

"Even if it means working yourself to death?" Sabrina worried.

Julia locked her eyes on the pale, timid girl. Her pink lips twitched into a smirk, and Sabrina couldn't help but feel a little sadistic just looking at it. "Isn't that what Vaughn plans to do?"

Sabrina sighed, thinking about the man she had grown so attached to. It seemed like, when he wasn't working he was with her, and that was a minority of his own time. It just piled onto a list of things that Sabrina needed to worry about, and he seemed to be the priority. She had seen how he had changed when that Concorde lady came into town, and though he hadn't spoken a word of his suspicions, Sabrina was not an idiot. She knew exactly what was going on inside his head. She knew what was going through _everyone's _head.

"Is it hard...?" Sabrina asked, her pale eyes flitting back and forth between her companion and the floor. "Seeing her around...destroying everything?"

The tired form of Julia groaned, suddenly unhappy that the new woman had become the centre of conversation once again. "Of course it is. She looks just like her. Can you imagine how guilty I feel when I see her, or even hear about her? It feels like when Chelsea left. That woman, whoever she is, is set on ripping open old wounds, and she doesn't even realise it."

Sabrina clasped her hands together, a small frown blessing her shy face. "You must really hate her."

"I do, but not because of what she plans on doing. I hate her because she makes me hate myself. And I hate myself for pushing Chelsea away."

Just then, the depressing little party was disturbed when the bell above the door rang, and the loud clap of wooden soled shoes hit the floor. Finally, Vaughn was back from wherever he had been. He seemed surprised when he walked into the kitchen, seeing the two most important women in his life sitting there, conversing. And then he realised he was meant to be spending the afternoon with his... 'girlfriend'.

"Oh." He grunted, locking eyes with Sabrina. It made her shiver. "I forgot. Sorry."

She smiled up at him and stood, taking his hand in hers. "Let's go now, before the sun begins to set."

"Alright." He answered, glancing over at Julia while he was pulled out of the house again. For a second, Sabrina saw the worry flash through his eyes. "I'll see you later Julia. For dinner." He said in farewell.

For some reason, while they were walking down the path towards the beach in the waning sun, Sabrina found Vaughn's silence ten times more powerful than it ever was. It was like his wordless nature summed up the internal turmoil of every individual on the island. She didn't know what he had been doing that took him so long, but she could tell that it had left him in an odd state of mind.

And it made her determined. Tonight, she was going to go home and use her dad's power to find out as much as she could about this Concorde lady. Whoever she was, Sabrina was going to find out. Maybe then, when all the secrets had been laid bare, the tense atmosphere would dissipate and the islanders could work together to stop her. And then Vaughn would be happy again.

He would be happy. Like he used to be happy, when Chelsea was around. He would smile like he did in her presence, the way Sabrina wished he would smile when he was with her. And he would realise that Sabrina was the one who could make him happy, and he would dedicate his life to her.

That's all Sabrina wanted... was it too much?

"Who does this Concorde person work for?" She asked, her voice quiet.

Vaughn glanced down at her, a stern look on his face. "A hotel group. Why?"

Sabrina looked away, smiling. "No reason." '_But you're gonna be mine. One day, you're gonna be proud of me, and you're gonna be mine."_

**A/N: It's been a while. But don't worry, I'm off school until February now, so expect updates :D **

**So, as Sabrina plans on digging through the business databases to find Concorde's past, and as two old enemies come together for a common agenda, is Concorde going to end up in the deep end and surrounded by a bunch of upset, angry islanders? Who knows? Oh wait, I do!**

**Not much to say here, except happy holidays! Enjoy spending time with your family, while I spend my January at Rod Laver Arena, cheering Roger Federer on!**

**I apologise for any errors you might find, as always. Thanks and bye!  
**


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